


windburn

by llien



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Aftermath, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Introspection, Post-Kingdom Hearts III
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 06:35:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18068429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llien/pseuds/llien
Summary: Ventus returns to the Land of Departure with Aqua and Terra, and they attempt to heal.





	windburn

**Author's Note:**

> A fic about Ventus' state of mind post-KH3 for [@sovarin](https://twitter.com/sovarin) on twitter. I do want to say that because this is Ventus' thoughts, you see less of his bubbly personality than what he shows others. 
> 
> I never learned how to grow back  
> the torn-open places, my hands  
> a mess of numb violet, for good.  
> — Danielle Weeks

The Land of Departure was an empty, barren place. Beautiful, with waterfalls tumbling off sheer cliff faces and breathtaking with the perpetual waving of flags on proud tall turrets, but it was devoid of life. It had been too long since it’d fallen into darkness, and life had gone with it. Even before that fated descent, there had been very few people who lived on the disconnected islands joined by bridges of wood and iron.

Ventus had spent most of his teen years here in near isolation, and months could pass where the only other faces he’d see would be his fellow apprentices and his master. This hadn’t bothered Ventus, truth be told. Sometimes he’d grown curious about the people living further down in the valley, but he was content where he was.

He was rather shy, too hurt to be the first to reach out. There was something scarred in him in a place he couldn’t see, a burning wound that flared in fear when memories superimposed themselves over harmless things. A hand raised too high, too quickly; a plate shattering on the floor from a clumsy slip; a frown too severe, a brow too dark, a look too disappointed.

They left him afraid, in ways he couldn’t explain. In ways he didn’t  _ want  _ to explain, even if Terra looked at him with sad eyes and Aqua always kept her hand halfway towards him, as if afraid he’ll stumble and fall.

Ventus wasn’t stupid. He knew it was abnormal. Nobody should be this afraid of things that meant nothing. Nobody should hold their breath, heart pounding in their ears and chest seized as if by ice, just because someone set their bag down a little too roughly on the table. He wasn’t  _ stupid,  _ but he still didn’t understand  _ why. _

Nothing in his patchy memory explained it, and Eraqus never wanted to broach the topic, which Ventus was grateful for. He wanted to hide this strange shy fear. He wanted to be normal.

And he was, for the most part. He liked reading and discovering things, even if said things meant finding out how far from the ground he needed to be in a free fall before having to bespell the wind to shoot him back up. Aqua always scolded him for it, though Terra was eager to accept what the results of those particular experiments were.

All that aside, it meant Ventus was content to be with the people he knew in the place he knew, and though sometimes he’d been curious about the others in their land, he’d been fine not finding out just yet.

Yet, however, was never going to come.

Everyone was gone.

Ventus didn’t know why or what exactly happened. Maybe it was because Castle Oblivion had stood for too long, or maybe they’d disappeared from the moment darkness swallowed their land. Whatever it was, they weren’t coming back.

An entire town stood empty and lonely. It was the only way Ventus could describe it. He meandered down cobblestone paths and looked at grey-stone buildings with not a whisper of breath to be seen. It had all come back in the exact same manner it’d disappeared — laundry hung billowing on thin lines with clothespins, toys were abandoned on doorsteps, bicycles on their sides with the wheels occasionally spinning like pinwheels. There was food laid out on restaurant tables going bad and bags, jackets, perfunctory handkerchiefs still laid neatly out on the fountain-side. 

Ventus went around, at first hesitantly, as if he was trespassing in a place that had never belonged to him, but the longer it remained dead, the less wary he grew. It was like a graveyard, or a memorial, standing with moss growing thick from frequent rains and stone worn smooth from unforgiving winds.

He ventured into houses filled with personalities he’d never know. He gazed at commissioned portraits hung over mantels, at books lovingly-yellowed, at decor he’d never seen and sat on couches whose cushions sagged from familiar weights.

Ventus knew, rationally, that this wasn’t normal either, but whatever fear had kept him caged in the castle was gone. Maybe it was because there was no one left to fear, or maybe it was because he had already faced his greatest fear and came out dented and scratched but whole. He didn’t know. There were too many things  _ he didn’t know. _

He didn’t blame himself for the lives lost. He knew Terra did, knew Aqua did, in that strange martyrdom they bore on their shoulders, but they had known these people. Had spent Saturday mornings in the marketplace laughing as they piled fresh fruits into baskets and asked fondly after familiar aches and annoyances. Terra and Aqua had been prepared to take up the mantle of their master, to protect this land and all it represented, to pass their wisdom to generations to come, while Ventus had been content to finally live a life where food was a guarantee.

He didn’t carry that guilt, but he hated his ignorance.

He hated his naive desperate fear that had sent him tumbling after Terra half-blind with lies, that had left him falling into a slumber with a ravaged heart. He hated that nothing had changed, that  _ Ventus  _ hadn’t done anything worthwhile. That Sora, four year old blue-eyed bright-as-the-sun  _ Sora  _ had taken the fall for everything wrong in their universe.

It wasn’t fair. Ventus sat in a home of a family dead for a decade and he balled his fists, pressed them hard against his eyes, hiding from Aqua’s tired gaze and Terra’s self-loathing one, and thought again and again  _ it’s not fair. _

Ventus was done being the lost child. He was done being taken care of. It was his turn, now, to support them.

So when Aqua and Terra couldn’t quite bear to go into town, Ventus made the effort for them. He threw away all the food, he took down the laundry, he shuffled abandoned possessions to the side, because he wasn’t sure yet which homes they belonged to, and eventually decided it didn’t matter which house he stored them in anyways.

It was a long thankless effort, but Ventus had to keep busy. Sora was gone, their light faded away and blurred by dreams, and Ventus had done  _ nothing.  _

He didn’t tell them what he was doing. No doubt they considered this their responsibility, and he didn’t want to make them feel guilty. He told them a half-truth, that he couldn’t stand being pent up inside anymore. A decade was more than enough, he teased, but his smile was quick to drop when Aqua curled in on herself, guilt palpable in her lowered gaze. No matter what he said, he couldn’t take away their burdens, and he wanted to. Stars above, Ventus wanted to  _ be  _ there for someone.

It hadn’t been wholly a lie anyways. It felt good to be productive, to be doing something. He burned all the food, which created such a horrible stench that his eyes burned and he gagged. He folded the laundry, something he never even did for his own clothes which were stuffed randomly into drawers, but Ventus felt he owed it to these people. 

Maybe it was pointless. Maybe this was all just Ventus doing something to feel better about himself. But, it was something. 

So despite so much changing, somethings had stayed the same. Aqua and Terra were still the only faces he saw in the Land of Departure.

It came to head, though, when they were back from the islands that Riku often invited them all to.

Terra deactivated his armor and ruffled his hair to make it spike back up, glancing at Ventus. It was dusk, orange sunlight turning the usual clear waterfalls into liquid pools of light. The Land of Departure was so beautiful, with not a soul to appreciate it outside of them.

“Ven,” Terra called, and he turned, head tilting to the side. Aqua stretched briefly before cupping her elbows with her hands, something she began to do ever since they’d all returned. She moved hesitantly to stand beside Terra, and Ven suddenly felt as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, staring wide-eyed at a disappointed Eraqus. “Uh, I… wanted to ask you something.”

If Terra wanted to ask him something, he normally didn’t have a qualm about straight out asking with little formality. Ven tensed, mouth parting, lips pressing together, then nodding slowly. 

Terra started, stopped, ran his hand through his hair, and then  _ looked  _ at Ventus, like Ven was a child. How often had Ven been leveled with that same gaze? Even  _ Lea  _ looked at him like that. 

“We… we were thinking maybe you should leave.”

Ven’s heart dropped to his feet and he stared at Terra. They didn’t want him. They were tired of him and his impulsive  _ childish  _ antics. They couldn’t bear his burden anymore. They weren’t even friends anymore. Tears stung at his eyes and he ducked his head, grimacing, because  _ goddammit  _ he’d  _ said  _ he wasn’t going to be a kid anymore! 

“Terra!” Aqua admonished. “Why do you always mess up your words like that? We don’t want you gone, Ven.” Cool-rainwater hands cupped his cheeks, and Ven realized the tears had escaped, catching Aqua’s thumbs. They startled him. Had he always been so quick to cry? Or was it that the reservoir was too full and spilled over with any single disturbance? Terra scowled and crossed his arms, too tense, too angry. “Ven, we love you, you know that right?”

He knew they said it. Knew that maybe they meant it. But, it was hard to believe sometimes, with all the cracks between them now. Still, he nodded. 

“It’s just… we think maybe you’ll be happier with the others your age. You spend so much time away, we barely see you some days. And that’s okay!”Aqua hurried to say. “You don’t have to hang out with us. A lot’s happened, but… but maybe you’ll be better with— with Roxas or Riku.”

_ With Sora,  _ Ven thought viciously.  _ You meant with Sora.  _

It always went back to him. Sunshine boy with a heart too big, a heart now gone. Ventus couldn’t even feel him anymore. It was like they were all dancing around the reality of their grief and mourning, eyes canting away when Riku's face fell and he stared too long at the horizon, a yearning so honest it echoed in their own hearts.

“You want me gone,” Ven said, a small broken truth he’d buried deep in himself.

“No!” Terra stepped forward, until he was level with Aqua. “Never, Ven, how could you think that? I wouldn’t know what to do without you around.”

_ Really?  _ Ven asked.  _ Really, really? You mean that? _

His scars had broken him, had not quite mended what had been hurt. Deep inside him was a ruined stain, disfiguring his ability to trust.

Aqua sent Terra a look again, one Ven couldn’t read, and he realized abruptly that they had discussed him before. Maybe more than once. That Ven had worried them.  _ Again.  _ Even when he’d been trying so hard to ease some of the weight off their back.

“Ven,” Aqua murmured, “we just want you to be happy. If that means it’s somewhere away from here, then that’s okay.”

Ven didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want to leave them. He’d spent  _ ten years  _ lost in Sora’s heart, dreaming of him and  _ his  _ friends, with not a thought to his own. Didn’t they know? That he was lonely? That he wanted nothing more than to go back to that last night under the stars, laughing and whole?

“I’m okay here,” Ven said, voice thick with hurt. “Here is where I want to be. I don’t want to leave you,” he whispered.

Aqua looked at him with  _ that look,  _ that look that said ‘you’re just a child’. 

“You don’t have to leave,” Aqua said, and her hands slid from his cheeks to his head, tugging him until he rested against her. Aqua always smelled like fresh rainwater, like the air on crisp mornings, a little sweet like vanilla. She was warm, and Terra’s arms around them were even warmer. Ventus couldn’t ever stay still, but sometimes they managed to capture the maelstrom of his broken identity and broken smiles and keep it tucked between them. “We just want you to be happy.”

Ventus didn’t blame himself for every death in the Land of Departure, but sometimes, on windless silent nights, he wondered what might have been different if he’d been strong enough to withstand Xehanort in the first place. How many destinies torn apart would have never been touched at all. 

_ I am happy  _ was a lie and  _ I will be happy  _ was a promise he couldn’t make. 

More than anything, more than sunshine and rainwater and warm arms, Ventus wanted to go back to who he had been. 

But all he did was return their hug and wonder if they’d ever be able to meet wholly again, without all these broken pieces between them.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter | _oathbreaker


End file.
